Enterprises That Require New Clothes
by Lamia-Kuei
Summary: Garrus Vakarian. In a kilt. kmeme fill.


"Shepard, this looks stupid. I will go in my armor."

"Now, Grunt, it can't be that bad. Come out and let's see, okay?" Shepard's tone was firm.

"No."

"Grunt!"

Shepard and Garrus heard much grumbling before Grunt walked out.

"Oh, you look very nice, I don't see what's so wrong-"

"It looks stupid. I look stupid."

Shepard put a hand to her mouth.

"No, it's... cute..."

"I am a ferocious warrior!"

Grunt's tailored outfit for the upcoming Donnelly and Daniels wedding was possibly the first time anybody tried to put a krogan into a kilt. Shepard had hoped that at the least he wouldn't look like he'd ended up with a picnic tablecloth wrapped around his midsection. It was better than expected, actually; the pleats were neat and orderly, accommodating his tail, and the tailor took inspiration from modern krogan casual wear by repeating the tartan over Grunt's hump. They'd even made custom three toed black lace up shoes for him to go with the hose.

"Well, if you won't wear it, then you aren't allowed to participate in the competition."

"I don't care about any stupid competition."

"Well, then. I'll be sure to tell everybody that Urdnot Grunt will not be participating in the feats of strength-"

"Strength?"

"exemplified in Highland Games, because he was a baby about his clothes."

Grunt shuffled his feet. He knew that he'd win. Easily. And he liked winning. A lot.

"Okay. Fine. I'll do it."

"Very good, Grunt. I'll be sure to tell the caterers to make extra haggis for you!" Shepard patted his shoulder.

Grunt muttered some more before stomping back into the bathroom to get into his armor.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, letting him compete?" Garrus finally asked after Grunt left.

"Sure. All of it is lifting heavy objects and throwing them. He can absolutely do that," Shepard nodded.

Garrus was going to mention that perhaps allowing a krogan to heave heavy objects around as hard and far as he could was unwise in a party situation, but gave up because... well. It was a party that had Shepard attending. Kenneth and Gabby had to know what they were getting themselves into by now. No party like a Normandy party.

"All right. You're up," Shepard punched his arm.

Garrus didn't make protest before going to change. He'd used up all his protesting well before this fitting and she'd countered every single one.

Had his own colony marks and it wasn't proper to put on anybody else's version- Anybody could wear the Caledonia tartan.

Had his own formalwear- It was the bride's prerogative in certain human traditions to dictate the clothing of the guests. (What. Why would you give anybody one day's power to dictate like a general- Oh. And suddenly he saw the appeal. Crafty humans.)

Didn't need to attend- Yeah. That was stupid of him to even suggest, given Shepard's glare.

Probably not physically possible to wear- Shepard saw it as the illogical desperate excuse that it was and scoffed. Heartily.

"Okay. Here I am, get ready to laugh-"

Garrus walked out, arms spread, a resigned expression on his face.

The formal jacket and shirt weren't very much different from what he was used to wearing, though the hem of the jacket was cut higher to accommodate the proportions of the kilt. The kilt itself was fastened around the widest span of his hips and barely got to his knees. He had hose on and black shoes similar to Grunt's, except with two toes, of course.

"Oh, look who's got the knobbiest knees?" Shepard looked charmed.

Garrus' mandibles clenched with self-consciousness.

"This feels weird. My spurs aren't covered."

"Hmm. Am I sensing scandalized tones coming from you?"

"Quite possibly."

"Do a walk around, Garrus. Fashion-fashion-FASHION! Click-click-click-!" Shepard mimed holding a camera with her hands. "You're going to start a TREND, Garrus Vakarian, all the magazines will want you!"

"Your mockery hurts me, you know," Garrus started to walk from one end of the living room to the other, anyway. "I'm weeping. In the inside."

"I just don't understand how you can feel scandalized about what, four inches of your knees showing and not covering your spurs up. You go around in casuals that show to the universe that you don't have much of an ass, after all," Shepard was watching his circuit around the room.

He wasn't even trying and Shepard made another snicker at how he had enough natural hip sway with each stride to make the kilt swing.

"... Maybe because all of a sudden I have to pay attention to wind trajectories more than usual as a sniper?"

Garrus made a nervous press to the sides of the kilt with his palms.

"Seriously? Turians don't even do underwear!" Shepard threw her hands up. "You've been following Scottish tradition all along without realizing it."

"That's because we'd be fully dressed," Garrus replied. "in proper trousers. That are unaffected by stiff breezes."

"But nobody would even see anything but plates. So..."

"It's the whole principle of being dressed. Most civilized species understand this," Garrus crossed his arms. "The ones that wear clothing at all, I mean."

Shepard just sat on the couch, making poor attempt at suppressing the laughter that was bubbling up at the sight of a disgruntled turian in her living room, wearing a kilt.

"Look, Garrus, we're all going to be enduring bagpipes. We're all going to be dressed for the part. The payoff is the sheer amounts of liquor in the end. Scots know aaaall about it."

Garrus walked over and took a seat next to her on the couch, testing out the kilt.

"... More of my knees are showing," he tugged at the hem.

"If you're going to keep on being embarrassed about it, I'll give you something to be embarrassed about," Shepard grinned. Evil-y.

Shepard leaned forward, making him to lean away.

"... Okay. How about you get whatever it is out of your system because I will not be embarrassed at a wedding, you know-"

Shepard nodded, laughed gleefully some more, and put her hand on his knee.

"Good idea, Garrus. I shouldn't do something like this at the wedding."

Shepard inched her hand up under the kilt, the tips of her fingers kneading the softer hide there.

"You were going to do this at the wedding!?" Garrus said incredulously, squirming.

"What can I say? Bare turian knees totally get me going," Shepard grinned.

Garrus coughed in protest and he closed his knees together. It was absolutely futile, however, given the build of his hips and the slimness of his thighs, for blocking Shepard from moving her hand further up.

"And, bingo," she began tracing his seam.

"In front of everybody," Garrus shuddered. "In the middle of a ceremony."

"Well, no, we'd be in the audience, you know. Seated in rows and everybody would be looking at the bride and groom and not paying any attention to us."

"Impossible. People would notice this."

Shepard scooted closer to Garrus' side, pressing herself against him.

"But that's the beauty of something like a kilt, Garrus. All this fabric has the volume to hide everything."

Garrus had his eyes closed and he sighed as Shepard coaxed him all the way out of his plates.

"I could totally finish you off before the vows ended," Shepard licked her lips and began stroking. "All you'd have to do is keep still and quiet."

Garrus laughed helplessly at the idea of him keeping quiet, counterpoint to the thrum from his chest.

"And then, there's the reception dinner," Shepard continued.

"...You wouldn't-"

"We'd get to our seats. People would toast and make speeches. People would start drinking. The food would be served. And me? I'd just accidentally drop my fork-"

"Really? Drop your fork-"

"And go after it."

She lifted up the front of the kilt and took him into her mouth.

Garrus shuddered again before falling under, letting the sensations from every press and slide and suck carry him away.

Shepard looked very smug indeed after she finished, arranging his kilt neatly.

"Just so we're clear," Garrus said once he could talk again. "You are definitely not going to do that at the wedding."

"No guarantees, Garrus. I might be overcome with lust all over again just from seeing your naked knees."

"Hah. No. Seriously. I really don't want to be doing anything improper at an official ceremony joining two people together. It's kind of a big deal," Garrus replied earnestly.

Shepard smiled and kissed him.

"Okay. I won't."

"That's good. Um."

"Yes?"

"Do you really think I look okay in this?"

"Positively dashing, Garrus."

Shepard laughed for a minute at Garrus' pouty mandible clench, before hugging him.

"I'd like it if you wore it more than once, honestly."

"In public?"

"More like in private, if you'd like," Shepard's hand drifts down onto his knee again.

"Yeah. Okay. I can do that."

finis


End file.
